


Back to School: Five Things Captain America and Black Widow learn in College, and One They Didn’t

by gwmclintock88



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, College, Community Health Science, F/M, History, Introduction to Sociology, Life Drawing, Modern Literature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwmclintock88/pseuds/gwmclintock88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers decides (and convinces SHIELD to let him) attend a few college courses. Somehow, he manages to learn a few things he never expected from a person he never thought would attend: Natasha Romanov.</p>
<p>Or: 5+1 Things Captain America and Black Widow learn in College</p>
<p>Or: How to make friends without even trying</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to School: Five Things Captain America and Black Widow learn in College, and One They Didn’t

Steve was still unsure of this. He had gotten SHIELD to approve some time off - approve he meant give them no choice – and arranged to attend NYU for a semester or two. Too much free time on his hands spent either pounding the mats or working out, and as much as he loved to draw, there were only so many times he could go to the park, drawing the same things.

He never did well in school before, between missing too many days because he was sick, skipping school with Bucky pretending he was sick, or being unable to concentrate because he was sick but still went anyway. He wasn’t an idiot, but at the time, school just wasn’t for him. He only went because his mother wanted him to get an education, and now, it seemed he had both the time and ability to fulfill her request.

Getting into NYU was easy, as SHIELD managed to make a transcript and letters of recommendation glowing enough for him to enter the institution. He insisted on writing his own essays to send with the other paperwork, so he felt at least contributing to the effort. Once accepted (and without the recognition of Captain American hanging over his head), he signed up for basic general education courses: Sociology 101, Community Health Sciences 102, History 110, Art 201 (Somehow, SHIELD got him into a higher level course), and Physics 151L. 

Overall, he was fairly happy with the course selection, considering he didn’t get to choose any of them. The science courses seemed interesting, and he definitely could use the United States history course. It would be nice to have some formal education in Art, and sociology could be useful given the changes in the country. He wasn’t sure about the community health sciences class, but figured they would not have recommended it if he couldn’t use it. 

That was how he found himself in a classroom for the first time in nearly seventy years. History 110 was the first up, and he got their early, not knowing what to expect. The expansive lecture hall certainly wasn’t it. And all the kids looked like they should still be in high school. Some came dressed in pajamas (or what passed for pajamas these days), most of them had laptops (he had his Starkpad, but hid that beneath a notebook and pen), and most looked bored already. 

“Not what you were expecting?” He nearly jumped out of his seat at the familiar voice.

“Age-Nat…?” He didn’t know what to call her in public since they never discussed it, but it wasn’t his concern. “What? Are you following me?” Before he could continue the train of thought, the Black Widow just laughed and he got a good look at her as she sat down next to him. 

She dressed casually, wearing a worn black hoodie and faded (tight) jeans. Her vibrant red hair was up in a ponytail and she had only a hint of makeup on. He could see guys glancing back at her as they walked in but she ignored them as she pulled out a notebook and pen.

“I’m currently between assignments, and it was recommended that I could take some formal classwork,” she said. She seemed relaxed, making it easier for him to relax. Not that he couldn’t spot at least seven different ways she could kill someone with the items in her hand. “And someone let it slip you were attending college. So I thought maybe we could help keep each other sane.”

“Sane?” He started to ask why he would need help being kept sane when a group of boisterous frat brothers stumbled in. They caught sight of Natasha and started to hoot and holler at her, which she ignored. He didn’t and chose to glare at them from besides her. They tried to return the glare, but stumbled off to a group of seats far away from them.

“Keep us from killing other students, you know, normal college things,” she said, laughing again. He couldn’t help but chuckle along with her.

“Yeah, it would be nice to do something normal for once. So what other classes are you in or should I just expect you to me in the same ones as me?” Given her presence and initial inquiry, he wasn’t even going to try and ignore that she probably knew his schedule as well.

“I signed up for Community Health Sciences and Sociology with you, but you’re on your own for Art and Physics. I’ve got Chemistry and English.” He would have to take some English courses as well. “I already tested out of foreign languages. You should try that too.” 

 

“My German is a little rusty,” he said, “but I might be able to test out of French.”

“Russian was the only one they’d let me test out without drawing too much attention to myself.” He nodded, understanding SHIELD’s explicit non-instructions on public behavior.. “Either way, it sucks coming in at the bottom rung, but hopefully our jobs won’t disrupt this too much, and we get into some of the better classes.” She spoke with all of the fever of a nerd, but somehow, she even made wanting to study look hot. 

“One can only hope,” Steve said with a smile. It surprised him to see her so relaxed, but maybe this was just another mask she wore. Either way, it would be good to have a friend in class.  


**History 101 – United States History**

Steve shook his head, smirking as he got their papers back from a TA. 

“I hate you, you know that,” Natasha grumbled as she stared at the ‘A-.’ She certainly was a perfectionist, not that he could blame her. 

They stuck together in History, choosing to sit together and study together as well (as much as they could without interference from the others). It helped keep the ‘sorostitutes and playas’ (as Natasha called them) away. They were older than most students, but also seemed to take it more seriously than most as well. 

Still, both of them trained for missions and studied for tests, finding the experience exhausting. Getting the paper back with an A on it was worth it though.

“Not my fault that he let me write about World War 2,” he said, smiling slightly. “Or that he said we could write it any way we wanted.” The project was to give a ‘fictional’ approach to a point in history, drawing upon as many resources as possible to create an accurate representation of the time period for the United States. So he chose to write it about the assault on HYDRA’s base by Captain America – from Bucky’s perspective. It helped to think of his best friend and the time he was able to save him. Plus, it certainly seemed easier than writing about an event in the Civil War or anything else for that matter. 

History was a lot more interesting when you lived through it. 

“But there is no way Lee Harvey Oswald could have done it alone,” she grumbled. Any other student would have shoved the offending paper in their bag, but Natasha took out of her folder and reverently placed it inside. “I mean, I cited everything and even talked about how they could have done it better with only one shooter. I drew pictures!” Part of him thought it was her way of venting frustration, but the other part thought it was cute she cared so much. 

Not that he would ever voice such a thing to her. 

“Would that be why he wrote ‘See Me” on it?” He asked as they stood.

“No, the TA’s been trying to grab my attention for weeks,” she said. Steve glanced over his shoulder at the graduate student who looked about his age, maybe a year or two younger. He certainly seemed to focus on her. The TA immediately looked away when Steve started to glare at him.

“Going to put the fear of God into him then?” Natasha shot him a smile over her shoulder.

“Only if he gave me an A- because he wants me to sleep with him for the grade.” Steve’s loud laugh startled most of the students around them as they hurried off to their next class. “Besides, I am killing it on the tests. I’ll walk out of here with an A.”

Steve was happy to walk out of the class with a B, even with the job well done on the paper. He was bright, but memorization of facts had never been his strong suit. Spatial memorization, yes, but that came from drawing so much, and he always struggled with route recall. 

“Don’t worry; we’ll study together for the final, as always.” She patted his arm as they walked out of the lecture hall. 

“We’re getting to the Cold War next week, and then you can show him how little he knows,” Steve said. The comment seemed to work, drawing her out of her funk about the grade. 

“At least he kept the Captain America slides to a minimum of three a week,” she teased back.

College certainly wasn’t what he expected, but going through it with Natasha certainly made it remarkable.  


**Community Health Sciences 102 – Human Health and Well-being**

“Parts of the vagina!” Natasha screamed as they dodged shots fired at them. Being in college did not mean they could miss their day jobs.

So when HYDRA soldiers decided they could attack a base in Chicago, Steve and Natasha headed out there to meet Iron Man. Clint was off on some mission, having needed to fall back into some pattern of normalcy (that was what Natasha said) and Bruce decided to stay behind. Thor still hadn’t returned from Asgard, which left them to deal with the various attacks

“What?” Tony stopped mid-flight, floating there as he stared back at where Steve and Natasha fought the ground forces. Bullets struck his armor.

“We’ve got a test coming up, Tony,” Steve said over his earpiece. Though, that hardly explained how humiliating this was, and how much Tony would not let him live it down. 

It had been Natasha’s idea to have him repeat the anatomy of reproductive organs to study. Eventually, the two of them decided he was an auditory learner, so vocally repeating the parts should make it easier for him to recall when they had the mid-term. Plus, she saw it as her way of getting him over blushing each time someone said the word ‘vagina,’ ‘penis,’ or anything related to sex.

“Parts of the vagina!” she yelled again as she fired off several rounds from her pistols. Tony’s giggles carried through the earpieces but he seemed to be waiting for Steve’s response.

“Ovaries.” He punched a soldier as it tried to sneak up behind him. Swinging his shield, he deflected bullets as turned to face another squad moving toward them. “Fallopian tubes. Uterus.” 

“Keep it up captain, you might reach home,” Tony said. Steve caught a glimpse of a missile. Tony must have found an appropriate target. 

“Umm…” He threw his shield at a target, letting it ricochet against the falling body before hitting a tank behind him. Catching the shield at it returned, he ducked behind a crate. “Cervix.” 

“Correct,” Natasha said as she hopped behind her. “And ignore Tony.”

“Don’t ignore me, I’m the king of female anatomy,” Tony said. Peaking over the crate, he stood. 

HYDRA was done here at least. They could relax a bit. Though, repeating the female anatomy in public certainly wasn’t what he would consider relaxing. 

“Come on, you’re getting to the fun parts,” Tony smirked. His encouragement certainly wasn’t making this any easier, but there was only one test on the reproductive organs so at least he could get over that quickly. 

People didn’t talk about these type of things back in the 40s (he had to stop thinking of it back in the day; otherwise Tony would keep calling him an old man). They were private, something fathers talked with sons about, friends discussed. But certainly not in school. 

“Labia major and minor,” Steve said. He pictured a drawing of the anatomy from class. He had most of them, now he was just missing a few. 

“Is there going to be a practical portion of this study session?” Tony asked. His mask was now flipped up, revealing his smirk. Natasha simply charged her widow’s bite, a Taser built into her gloves, prompting Tony to hold up his hands in surrender. 

“Not for you to see,” Natasha snapped before turning toward Steve. “And correct.” She smiled at him, stopping next to him. Now that the fight was over, the cleanup crew would come in and begin to investigate the site. He wasn’t sure what they would find, besides confiscating more weapons, but at the moment, it gave him something to think about other than the amount of time he had been spending with Natasha recently.

It surprised him how much time they spent together. Natasha admitted to taking a brief leave of absence since restarting school, and he honestly was thankful for at least one friend in the class. Being older in the classroom was daunting enough. Being in his nineties compared to these kids? He wasn’t an idiot, but try Rip Van Winkling into the future (when he commented on that in his Sociology class as the book that best described his life, little twats had the nerve to ask him what book that was) and still remaining sane.

“Vagina, monis pubis, symphsis pubis, and…and…” He paused, trying to figure out the last part of anatomy he needed to know.

“What’s the one part most men don’t know how you use?” Natasha asked. She twisted her body slightly, her hips rotating as she stared up at him. Steve felt his gaze drop to her dancers’ hips, and he fought the images of her twirling in the air after a leap and a bound. 

“CLITORIS!” Steve startled as Tony screamed from across the field. Everyone stopped and looked at him.

“Oh, you were still studying,” he said, faking abashment but smirking. Steve couldn’t help but laugh a bit. Even if he was a bit of a jerk, he certainly didn’t feel as embarrassed now that everyone was staring at Tony instead of him.

“He’s right, but I don’t think the professor is going to let you bring Tony in as a cheat sheet.” Even she appeared a bit amused. “We still have to go over the male reproductive system. You have until the flight back to the tower.” Tony’s sniggers carried with a wave of others as Steve groaned. Natasha walked off; smiling to herself and Steve had to smile as well.

Having friends was good, even if they embarrassed the hell out of you sometimes.  


**Art 201- Life Drawing**

He stood outside her door for nearly hour. Not stationary off course. He shifted his weight, leaned back on his heels, and scratched his neck. All indicators of his nervousness. The movements happened in the singular. As one occurred, another ceased. She wondered if he realized how much of his appearance reminded her of those artists in the park he dragged her to on the weekends. The only thing he didn’t do, the one nervous action she didn’t see, was him crumbling the pad of paper in his hands. 

She would have opened the door, but from observing people, being human meant sometimes letting people come to you in their own time. It took her a long time, and several good arguments with Clint before she came to this conclusion. 

With this understanding, it became a puzzle or maybe a conundrum. Was there an amount of time to wait for someone to come to you that was considered too long? Or did you always have to wait? There were instances she could recall where necessary intervention might be required, but this instance, of Steve waiting to make up his mind about something, she could wait.

Steve knocked on her door only three minutes past the hour mark. The tentative knock echoed through her silent domain and she rose as swiftly as she could. Appearing eager no longer factored into her decisions when it came to the man outside her door. For he was a man out of time, and she was woman lost to it. 

“Hi,” he said, like it was everyday he spent a significant portion of the evening outside her doorway. 

“Hi.” Taking a step back, she let him walk in. Both ignored his emotional standoff, as his body language revealed no reason to be alarmed or worried. This would be a normal problem.

Her ability to handle ‘normal’ problems failed to reach what most would consider adequate, but for Steve, she would try.

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” He asked. His voice was a tentative as his movements, sitting on the edge of her couch. 

“Just like reading,” she said. Crime and Punishment rested open on her coffee table, and somehow, Steve mastered facial expressions enough to question her effectively with just a raised eyebrow. “I’ve read it before, just skipping to my favorite parts. You can borrow it if you want.” The question spilled from her lips, rushing before they could clamp down on it. 

What few possessions she owned, identifiable to her, she cherished. This book was one of them, and even Clint knew not to ask about it. But she offered to let Steve read the worn books, with comments in the margin, and phrases, sentences, and paragraphs underlined or crossed out. She hoped he never asked her about Harry Potter, because he would have her committed for her certifiable insanity.

“I…yeah, maybe,” he said, giving her a soft easy smile. She felt her body relax. It wasn’t a rejection of her book. Rather, he offered her a tentative agreement, and she grasped onto it.

College offered Steve a chance to rebuild his view of the world.

She wasn’t sure what college offered her. 

“I wanted to know if you would help me.” She raised an eyebrow at the question. They always worked on homework together, whether it required sitting at the communal table and writing essays or sequestering themselves in one of their apartments to review for a test. But they had no homework due the next day, and her meticulous planning provided more than enough rest in between large assignments if they kept to the schedule. 

“Of course,” she let her body relax in the chair. Steve’s silence left the question hanging, but the only reasonable conclusion for her to draw about it related to his art class. She caught him doodling or working on the assignments from time to time, but just like her English class, they silently agreed not to speak of it. Or at least, she thought they had. 

“I was hoping you’d be okay with me drawing you.” Despite the quiet tone, there was a confidence in his statement. She enjoyed his confidence, whether it engendered trust on the field between the Avengers and him or when he answered a question in class. It was solid, sturdy, and unwavering. He braced himself against everyone, and besides Clint, the number of men she could count on that were still alive failed to reach what she termed ‘human’ levels. 

“Sure.” Natasha smiled. Modeling for him would require nothing from her, literally. She performed worse acts for worse men, and all he desired was for her to sit or stand still for a period of time. She stood, reaching for the bottom of her sweatshirt, but a strong, calloused hand stopped her.

“Nat, what…I don’t need you to be nude,” Steve said. His face burst into a fire red, but he held her gaze. Unwavering, she searched his eyes for an answer to her question: Why else would he ask her to model if he didn’t want her to undress? “I need to draw someone as they are, in their natural form. And I thought, I could draw you reading a book.” 

“Really?” She asked, glancing back at her worn copy. Her ability to deal with conflicting emotions still failed after months and years of therapy, but she recognized two things: One, Steve’s honesty and openness warmed her body in a way she was unaccustomed to feeling. He asked of her, gave her a choice only the Avengers offered her. And despite being an Avenger, his choice gave her the chance to connect on what she thought was a deeper level. Which lead her to recognition two: She was lonely. 

She grew up isolated and without connections. An environment used to teach its pupils to only trust the State for direction and security, until she could trust it for neither. And then Clint made another call. A fellow assassin/spy, Clint offered her a rope out of the darkness of isolation, but she still remained trapped there for too long and the light too far away for Clint to pull her out of there on his own. 

Grabbing the book, she leaned back in her chair. Glancing back at Steve’s encouraging eyes, she shifted, swinging her legs over the arm of the chair and tried to forget about him as scratches of pencils against paper filled her silent apartment.

But she couldn’t. Because he wanted her as she is, and doesn’t need her to take her clothes off.

No one asked that before.

Maybe college was a good thing after all.  


**Sociology 101 – Introduction to Sociology**

He kept his eyes closed as Natasha finished her work. He wasn’t allowed to open them until she gave the okay. Her directions required little of him, but she seemed to enjoy the control she had over the brief moments between them.

Moments that became more frequent with the passing of the semester.

For sociology, they were required to break a norm. A norm of any type, but they had to identify it and record others response. Of course, said norm had to be approved, but Natasha persuaded not only their professor, but him to agree to it as well.

“Almost done,” she said. “Purse your lips.” He complied and felt a velvet press against them. “Now, press your lips against this and you can open your eyes.” Again, he complied, and the taste of a napkin and strawberry fill his senses. She removed the napkin and he opened his eyes to the smiling face of his partner in crime.

“You look great,” she said. Her previously long red hair was now trimmed and died into a short, black cut. Still she managed to look almost angelic.

Holding out a mirror, he had to smile even as he held in a laugh. He wore brown extensions woven into his dyed hair. It felt odd against his ears and his neck, and he watched a painted hand move up to brush a strand of hair away from his painted face.

Somehow, she had gotten him to agree to dress up as the opposite gender. He knew he could never pass, and Natasha might have been able to, but she made no effort beyond the short haircut and suit tailored to appear as a male’s. 

Tony being Tony and Clint being Clint both wanted to get in on the norm violation, and it was only after Steve agreed to a ‘slumber party’ filled with them painting each other nails andgirl talk that they agreed to let them complete the project on their own. Thor seemed excited as well, though, none more than Darcy (an assistant to the girlfriend of Thor). Jane and Pepper convinced Natasha to join in the party, and Bruce finally agreed the other evening after much pestering from Tony, Clint, and Darcy. 

“Don’t forget your purse,” Natasha said with a smirk. He stood carefully from the chair, still slightly confused by the feeling of bare legs in nylons. She convinced him to go all out for this, and the only thing they needed to do was finish dinner.

In exchange for the slumber party, Tony agreed to ‘man the Internet’ and prevent any photos from being connected to them. Though, he made no promises about not keeping them for future blackmail purposes. 

The norm was simple: they just dressed as the opposite gender. They still would act the same way, which meant Steve was paying and had to transfer a credit card and cash to the purse along with his ID. No alcohol tonight, since he didn’t want to get carded, though that rarely happened.

“I put the lipstick in your pursue too,” Natasha said as she slipped on her trenchcoat over her jacket. Steve grabbed the jacket Natasha picked out for him, that ended just below his torso. Blue nails hung at the end of his finger tips and staring at them only made him more confused. How women wore any of this baffled him. “All set?”

“We better get an A on this project,” he said. As soon as they stepped out of the apartment door, Tony and Clint stood on either side, both with cameras.

“No one is leaving before we get a few pictures of both you,” Clint said. Natasha glared at him, but Steve couldn’t hold in the laugh.

“This is like a prom night isn’t it?” His embarrassment at himself long fled since he was on stage having to sing and dance, like a trained monkey. He was more worried about Natasha, but she took care of herself well enough. 

“So that makes you two the mothers,” Natasha added. 

“That’s right, and after we take pictures, you get to leave for dinner,” Tony said, snapping another one with his phone. “And then come straight home. No going up to Makeout Point.” Steve blushed at the thought, prompting both Clint and Tony to take several more photos. 

Working with Natasha on so many things and being close to her, outside of ‘work,’ gave them a chance to be. She loved the silence or anything close to it, like classical music or some stuff from soundtracks (for some reason, she enjoyed the soundtrack to Game of Thrones). Words weren’t important to her; actions were. 

“Yes Mrs. Stark,” Natasha said. She rolled her eyes and smiled up at him. All he could do was return it.

“Let’s do this,” Steve said. “I’m starving and these heels are killing me.”

“But they make your ass look fabulous,” Natasha immediately replied. 

“They’re not so bad, you just have to get used to them,” Clint said. Tony and Steve stared at him, puzzled at Clint’s comment, but Natasha just smirked. “Undercover missions.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. 

Laughing again, this assignment was turning out to be more fun than he thought it would be, but that may be because of the friends he had. Or the person he was doing it with.

Either way, no one would likely mess with them, especially with how ‘butch’ (another phrase supplied by Tony) Steve looked. They would have fun, enjoy dinner and come back to talk about it. As trained spies (Natasha more than him), their observations skills would catch almost every reaction or lack thereof.

Brushing another strand of hair out of face, Steve plastered on his stage smile. “Let’s get this show on the road.” Natasha grabbed his hand, pulling him along to the communal area where Tony and Clint wanted to take pictures. It was going to be a long night, but somehow, after feeling Natasha’s arms reach around from behind him to wrap his waist as they posed for the camera, it would be worth it. 

**English – Modern Literature**

It was only a few months before that he stood in front of her room, wavering before knocking and cowardice. Except she could at least say she only spent thirty four minutes, twenty-seven secondsstanding outside Steve’s door, rather than the hour plus Steve waited outside hers. 

“Natasha,” he said as he opened the door. He held the door open with one hand and welcomed her in with the other. She passed him, brushing against her hand against his chest slightly as she caught his eye. The words were hard for her to form, but body language told its own story.

Silence was easy, and it settled between them as Steve led her to the sitting area he arranged by one of windows. The open view provided snipers with unfettered access to the loft, allowing them to follow every movement within the room. She may not have held the role within SHIELD, but she mentally calculated the angles necessary to strike at spots where someone may be, including the one where Steve took a seat. A cup of coffee set next to a sketchpad, open to a drawing of a dancer in pose.

“Could you read something for me?” In her hands, the culmination of many sleepless nights and too many spent staring at a blank sheet of paper. Despite holding a folder, the contents amounted to a single page, in line with both the instructions for the project and with her capabilities as a functional human being. 

“Of course.” Placing the mug of coffee on a coaster, he rose, not to grab the folder from her hands. Instead, Steve walked toward the in-suite kitchen. Her eyes followed him as her grip loosened ever so slightly on her writing. As he reached for a mug to prepare a cup of coffee for her, she let her fingers relax just enough to follow her commands. 

“Here,” she said. Her fingers released the folder and her hands allowed her to place it gently on the table. She stared at the contrasts of her purple folder and the black wood of Steve’s table.

He did not reach for it right way. Rather, he held out the mug for her to take, offering her another object to hold onto as he took his seat again. He didn’t ask any questions, didn’t ask for her permission again. He simply spun the folder and opened it up, taking care to not crease or fold any part of the page. 

She was used to being patient without care of the outcome. Hours spent surveling a target, reviewing video in search of a lead, or simply waiting for the target to take that sip of wine which surely results in his death. Patience became her.

But not tonight, not for this hour. 

She tried not to count the seconds or minutes. She tried to concentrate on the warmth of the mug in her hands, the flavor of her favor brew Steve now kept for her. She commanded her eyes to wander from the solid frame of the super solider before her, to catalog the contents of his apartment, like the drawing of her now framed. But she kept glancing at Steve’s eyes as they ran over the words.

After another eternity, Steve finally reached the end. With care rivaling that of when he removed it from the folder, he returned the paper to its resting spot. 

“It’s beautifully written.” 

“It’s not, but thank you for saying that,” Natasha said. She stared into his eyes, trying to gleam some pittance of knowledge or forewarning. 

“It’s beautiful because it is honest.” Steve shook his head. They sat in a comfortable silence, with no plan. Sipping the still warm cup, she relaxed in the quiet. 

“Are you going to show him” Steve asked after several minutes. His question broke the comfortable silence between them, but she found herself wanting to answer him.

Over the past few months, since attending college with him, she found Steve’s presence to offer a sense of something. Failing to identify it, she determined it was not due to a lack of data, but lack of interpretation. College offered her experiences she never had before, but it was Steve who helped make it a venture worth engaging in (especially since he seemed out of his depth as well but for different reasons). 

“Do you think I should?” She drew her legs underneath her, but left her body open. The lack of defensive body language encouraged individuals to open to her.

“He’d appreciate it, I think,” Steve said.

“I’m not good with words,” she admitted, looking out of the large window. She trained her eyes on a distance building, trying to figure out what she would need to attack from there and enter through Steve’s window. 

“You don’t have to be good to be honest,” Steve said. Natasha nodded, but kept her eyes looking out the window.

The silence continued, and she recognized the sounds of Steve standing from his couch. Their mugs clipped against the table before his footsteps faded away. The blinking of the tower lights offered a recognizable pattern. 

“Do want me to put on some music?” He asked. The cloth of the couch scrapped slightly against the denim of his jeans. 

“In a bit,” she said. She finally turned to look at him, letting a small, actual smile bubble up from her hidden spots. “But you think it’s good?”

“Yeah,” he said, returning the smile with a brightening one of his own. 

“Good,” she stood from the chair and made her way over to his side. “Can I do something, and you won’t question it?” She stared down at him, a rarity, but felt no power over him that he unnaturally ceded to her. Typically, she had to work to get men under her control, but with him, he gave her the control willingly. Except in the field of course.

“Natasha,” he rolled his eyes at her question, a trait he picked up from her. She smiled as she sat next to him and leaned into his side.

The sense of something grew inside of her, and it wasn’t just the warmth of arousal (though that certainly was there). It was something else, something grander, and whatever control she had over him, she returned as she felt her body relax into the warm.

“Music?” he asked. His arm curled around her shoulders, not holding her tightly but still offering her a sense of enclosure. She nodded into his chest, feeling the rumble of his words before they articulated off his tongue.

“You know, there is a political science class on zombies next semester,” she said as soft strings filled a harmony with woodwinds. 

“Yeah, I saw that,” he said. 

“Maybe we can sign up for it,” she offered. She liked this quiet interaction, more than she thought. 

“Maybe,” he said. His lack of confirmation didn’t bother her too much.

For the first time, outside of Clint, she felt something for a person that required opening up and she found herself willing to take that chance. She’d have to thank Maria for the idea of attending college, especially one where Steve went.  


**+1 – Extracurricular Activities**

After a surprising successful Avengers slumber party (complete with nail painting), Tony convinced everyone to join in the college experience. So here they were, playing party games. A bad idea when you are normal people, a worse one with drunk superheroes.

“There is no way this is legal,” Tony said. He stood across the table next to Darcy across from Clint and Thor. Plastic cups were arranged to form a pyramid, or they were supposed to, as every time a person tossed a ball into the cup, the other team had to drink. 

Drunken hubris amazed Steve still: Clint’s side of the table was filled with cups still, while Tony and Darcy’s side dwindled down to only a few. Thor’s face settled into a glum grimace, as he sipped on the mead. Every time he threw the little white balls, he missed, but Tony and Darcy weren’t much better than he was (though their swaying caused him a little alarm). Clint just kept sinking the balls into the cups before Steve watched the last cup catch a ball with a plop.

“Much better than flippy-cup,” Natasha said. She sank into the couch next to him, before swinging her legs up over his lap. He rested his palm on her knees, smiling at her for a moment.

“Thor only had to break one table for us to realize that was a bad idea.” Steve gently removed the cup of vodka from her hand and took a sip. It burned slightly and certainly tasted better than some of the rotgut he remembered from the war. He caught the affronted look on her face, but couldn’t help but smile a bit.

Despite the academic class load, college brought a sense of normalcy to his life, and gave him a chance to be normal at least for a few hours every day. Even if he couldn’t get drunk, he could still ‘hang’ with his friends, or at least that was Darcy’s excuse to get drunk on a school night. It wasn’t something they could experience with other students, given their age and their ‘day jobs.’ 

Steve only had to cover for Natasha once (thankfully, they had mainly lecture halls), but she got called in when Clint was injured on an assignment. Her lip nearly bitten through as her gaze flickered between the door to the classroom and her phone. She did not have a lot of people to worry about, but the few she did…still waters and all that. It was telling to him though: She dropped her mask for a fraction of a moment with him, enough to show the emotions some of the other agents claimed she didn’t have.  
And there were more moments like now, when she could relax the mask some more, even just a little bit, showing the world the woman behind the façade.

“Nat! Darcy needs a new partner!” Clint’s voice knocked him from his thoughts, and it seems knocked Natasha from hers as well. She jumped slightly, not enough for anyone who wasn’t being used as her seat could notice, but enough that he did.

“I’ll hold onto that for you.” He took the drink from her hands as she slide off the couch with the grace of her trade. 

“Don’t finish it, else we’re going to have to find another bottle,” she said. He watched her as she walked off, confidence and calmness wrapped around a deadly center. 

“Cozy with the Widow?” Steve turned to see Tony landing on a seat across from him. “I’m surprised she hasn’t killed you yet.”

“Me too,” Steve quietly admitted. “But I think doing something normal is helping.”

“You’re the youngest out of all of us, though Darcy I think is about the same age as you two,” Tony said. “But she grew up normally, as normal as any can be. So for you, college was probably a pipe dream.” They didn’t talk about his past a lot, but Steve found drinking made Tony melancholy, and now after recent events and his surgery, Tony reflected more.

“Not even,” Steve said. College was for the wealthy, and arriving in a time when everyone was expected to have a degree (or at least told you needed one to succeed) baffled him. “I’m enjoying it though. I appreciate the help on physics.” Tony laughed.

“How do you think the professor would feel if he knew Iron Man basically taught you more than he did?” They laughed as Steve got caught in the memory. When he reluctantly asked the older man in help explaining something, Tony bypassed the basics and went straight to an explosion. It became the norm, and for some reason, if you wanted Steve to learn something, point a gun or throw a war at him. 

“It’s been good. I’m not sure SHIELD will let me keep going, but I’ve signed up for another set of classes.” For the first time in a long time, he had something that was his, not associated with his job or his old life. 

“Getting out from underneath thumbs, being your own man,” Tony nodded. “My father didn’t like the idea of me leaving his grasp, but he liked it more that I wasn’t underfoot anymore.” Again, the melancholy Tony came out to play.

“Tony?” Both men turned at the sound of Pepper’s voice. Steve watched as Tony’s eyes lit up and he bounded from his seat to meet his girlfriend. Though Tony mentioned her being away, dealing with Stark Industries, somehow, someone got the word to her that they would be drinking tonight. 

“So, you and Nat, huh?” Steve wasn’t surprised to find Clint hovering over him or that the agent silently moved away from the game. 

“What about us?” Steve took another sip of her vodka. 

“She let you read her letter to me, right? I mean, it took her nearly five years to open up to me enough to get there and you manage it in six months,” Clint said.

“I’m not…you two aren’t…” Steve struggled to understand. He hadn’t thought the two of them were dating, and if he had, he certainly would have tried to keep more a platonic distance between them. 

“We tried that, didn’t work. We’re too similar.” Clint glanced behind him before clapping him on the shoulder. “Let her take care of you.” Normally, people said the opposite, and as he tried to turn toward Clint, he spotted Natasha walking back toward him.

“You boys have a good chat?” Natasha asked. Clint gave his usual lazy smile, nearly smirking at the implication.

“Gave him the shovel talk,” Clint said as he walked off. Natasha reached over, her upper body brushing against his head as she took her glass out of his hand. 

“Hey Natasha, you think we could, I mean maybe, if you want to,” Steve tried. He struggled to get the words out as she stayed, leaning against him and over him. “Would you like to get dinner some time?”

“Don’t we usually?” Her eyebrows were raised and he caught a glimpse of confusion in her eyes before hiding them behind a mask. 

“I mean, together, without talking about classes,” Steve said. The confusion returned before it quickly morphed into something he could only describe as happiness. A light filled her eyes unlike he had seen before and he felt her body relax against him even more. 

“Yeah,” she said, smiling as she leaned down to kiss him gently on the lips. “But after finals.” Steve chuckled, but nodded. 

“After finals,” he agreed. He kissed her once, twice, three times more. Short little pecks but each one he could taste the vodka and flavor of Natasha. Everyone’s eyes were upon them, watching them as they finally finished this little dance that started six months ago when she sat next to him in a class he really did not want to attend. 

“My safe word is apples,” she whispered into his ear, nipping it slightly. Steve did the only thing he could think: he pulled her over the back of the couch and into his lap. As she began to giggle he couldn’t help but laugh too.  
Maybe going to back to school was worth the hassle. 

And at this point, Darcy had to contribute: “My ship is so canon!”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I do not own the Avengers, Captain America, or Black Widow. All are owned by Marvel. The Avengers were created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby; Captain America was created by Joe Simon and Jack Kirby; the Black Widow (Natasha Romanov) was created by Stan Lee, Don Rico, and Don Heck.
> 
> All classes are based upon ones either I took or TA'd for, though these are simply glimpses and not real classes. They may not be offered at NYU, and I because I couldn't access their catalog, classes may not have the same names.
> 
> This was based upon a prompt, but I honestly forgot where I got it and who to give credit to. I apologize but I hope you enjoyed this.


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